Crimson and Clover
by Infinitesimi
Summary: Ed would do anything to save his brother. Anything, even theimpossible. Manga based with nearly no spoilers, unless you don't know aboutGreedLing. No pairings. Featuring crazy!Ed, or maybe he isn't crazy?
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Crimson and Clover

**Author**: **infinitesimi**

**Genre**: Plot/gen

**Summary**: Ed would do anything to save his brother. Anything, even the impossible.

**Note**: Manga based with nearly no spoilers, unless you don't know about GreedLing. No pairings. Featuring crazy!Ed, or maybe he isn't crazy?

**Chapter One**

"Yo, Elric," called a voice, but the young man with the blond braid did not look up, merely flashing his military ID card in the direction of the speaker, leaving his gaze on the floor and his bangs covering his face, muttering alchemical formulas under his breath.

"Elric!" came the voice again, and the man in the blue uniform nearly jumped back when the blazing gold eyes finally met his own.

Ed stopped in his tracks, lifted his head defiantly and growled out, "_What?"_ in a tone that clearly demanded that the man at the counter be asking for something important.

Used to Elric's disposition, the man shrugged. "Mail's in, you got a letter," he said, holding the envelope out for him to take.

Ed snatched the letter, putting it in with his folders of notes, and stormed up the stairs of the military dorms. Once in his room, he let his keys drop on his nightstand and flopped backwards on the bed, sliding the letter out to see who had written him. He half expected it to be from Winry; she sometimes wrote him quick notes here and there even though he never wrote her back, but it was from his brother, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

_He had failed him_. He swore he would never give up trying to find a way to restore his brother's body, and he never did, but it had been over seven years now, and five since he had become a State Alchemist and he was no closer than he had been when they started.

"_I don't want to live like this, Brother,"_ Alphonse had said, and it made his heart twist. He didn't want his brother to live like this either, but every time he thought he had a lead it turned into another impossibility, and now Al had gone off _on his own_ to find the stone.

_Because he wasn't doing a good enough job_. Al tried to say that he wasn't able to help Ed in Central, so he might as well persue a different lead. He argued that the military had become more strict about who it allowed to access information only intended for State Alchemists, and since Al could never be a State Alchemist without a body he wasn't even able to join Ed in the government research facilities these days. But Ed couldn't help feeling that Al knew he wasn't getting anywhere with his research and decided to take matters into his own hands.

He folded his hands behind his head, feeling the automail through his gloves: hard fingers pressing into his skull, causing five points of dull ache beginning to seep through his head. He'd never been away from his brother for this long. They always did everything together and he couldn't imagine life without him. That was why he had done the impossible, risking his own life and limb, to bind his soul to a suit of armor: he couldn't bear to be without him.

With a jerk he flung himself off the bed and onto his feet, grabbing his other, personal notes off the desk and heading to the library for another, different round of pouring over ancient texts. A new section of the library had been added that housed a collection of rare alchemy texts found in the home of a long-since-deceased alchemist, and Edward hoped in vain that there would be something in them that would help him restore his brother.

He stomped in the door of the library, displaying his State Alchemist's watch as he crossed into the restricted area of the building, all the while staring down at his boots and letting his bangs cover his face. He wasn't much for looking people in the eyes these days; he saw disappointment, judgement, and criticism in every response whether it was present or not, and often it was, if not for the reasons he suspected. Claiming one of the tables by the window, he hauled out the ancient texts and dove in.

Ed stiffened when he felt a hand come down on his shoulder, instinctively snapping the book in front of him shut, effectively concealing both what he was reading and the notes he was taking. "What the-" he sputtered, twisting around in his chair.

Familiar black eyes glinted down at him, part of the Colonel's famous smirk. The man in the blue uniform ran a hand through his hair, expression still smug, and raised his eyebrows. "I was afraid I might find you here," he said, and Ed couldn't shake the feeling he was being laughed at.

"If you want the report," the boy said, glaring, "I put it on your desk. I couldn't find you when I stopped by, so I just left it there for you. You must have been taking a break or something."

Roy pulled out he empty chair next to him, and sat down, his smile becoming slightly more genuine. "A break, what a novel idea," he said, his tone amused. "Perhaps you should try it some time, Fullmetal."

Ed muttered something incoherent, curling an arm protectively around his book and opening it up again, picking up his pencil and beginning to scan the pages once more.

The Colonel watched him for a moment, noticing the way the boy's lips moved slightly as he read, and then reached over and pulled the pencil right out of those gloved fingers. "Edward," he said, the smirk gone, his voice serious. "Do you know what time it is?"

He glanced up at the large windows that lined the library walls. "What?" he said defensively. "It's not dark, they're not ready to close up yet!" He turned his gaze on Roy, puzzled at his question.

"Do you even know what _day_ it is?"

Ed stared at him blankly. "It's Wednesday- _shit_. I forgot," he groaned, putting his hand to his forehead, frowning. He looked at Roy from between his fingers. "Sorry?" he offered. Then he pointed a finger at him. "Hey, if _you_ had been in your office when I stopped in to drop off the report, then maybe I would have remembered," he accused.

Roy stood up, pushing the chair away from the table with a scraping sound that turned several heads in the library. "Come on," he directed, trying to haul Ed up with him, but the boy resisted.

"I can't, Colonel, just tell everyone I'm not coming. I've got to get through all this new material-"

Roy rolled his eyes, saying quietly, "Ed, you've _been_ through all these books, I've seen you devour every one of them. Something new isn't going to just magically appear in them-"

"You don't know that!" he protested, a new touch of desperation in his voice, and Roy sighed.

"Come on," he said patiently, "We were counting on your company tonight, poker night is never as good without you there and you've bailed on us the past three weeks."

Ed groaned. "I _can't_, it's not fair to Al, he's all alone out West researching stuff too, I can't be goofing off here in Central. Playing poker, drinking, hanging out with friends, that's for normal people like you and Havoc and Falman and everyone else. I'm busy," he said roughly.

He jerked his shoulder back when he felt Roy's hand come down on it a second time. "I'm sure your brother doesn't want you holing up in here every minute of the day. And you know, maybe we're not all as normal as you think. Maybe we're just doing this to make sure we stay sane."

"I don't need to stay sane," he muttered, snatching his pencil back from Roy and streaking graphite all across his white gloves. "I need to find a way to fix my mistakes." He opened his book a third time, letting the ancient cover slap against the wooden table top, refusing to pay any more attention to the Colonel whatsoever. Once again his lips began moving in silence along with the words and he scribbled furiously and unintelligibly in his notes, and Roy knew it was a lost cause.

* * *

"Where's the Boss, Roy?" Havoc asked when he saw Roy enter his apartment alone.

"You didn't make him angry with you, did you?" Riza asked, a touch of accusation on here voice.

Roy merely shook his head, hanging up his coat and running a hand through his hair. "I didn't do anything to him," he protested to Riza. "But he still isn't coming," he told Havoc.

The sandy-haired man frowned, wheeling himself away from the poker table to the small bar set up in the corner. "He hasn't been over in weeks," he said as he picked up the ice tongs, adding three to his glass before pouring a generous amount of whiskey over them. "Anything for you?" he offered, looking over his shoulder.

"Whiskey," Roy said distractedly, taking a seat at the poker table. Breda was nudging Fury in the ribs and snickering over something, and Roy wished he could relax as much as the rest of his men. He watched as Havoc wheeled toward him, holding both glasses between his knees, and took the one he was offered, draining it in one gulp, feeling the liquid burn all the way down to his stomach. "Thanks," he said after setting the empty glass on the table. "Deal me in?" he said to Falman, who nodded and began to collect the cards from each player.

"I worry about him," Havoc said, aside to Roy. "It's almost like he's a different person without his brother around. Why'd they split up, anyways? They're never apart for anything!"

The Colonel shook his head. "I don't know, I can only guess. Alphonse just said he wanted to be doing something useful. It's hard to believe he doesn't see how important he is in keeping his brother afloat."

Havoc peeked at the cards he had been dealt. "Maybe he sees that just fine."

* * *

When Ed returned to his dorm it was late. He had unintentionally kept the library open an extra half hour, and his mind was spinning with alchemical theories. He didn't turn the light on when he flung open his door, intending to flop down onto the bed again and mull over the things he had read, but stopped short when he saw the grinning, shadowy figure perched on his pillow.

Out of instinct he had his automail blade out, and the blue crackle of alchemic light threw a weird glow onto the creature before it faded back to the blacks and greys of shadows. "Greed," he greeted the intruder with a sneer, only to be met with an even wider grin.

"Ling," the foreign man corrected, hopping off the bed and standing directly in front of him, seeming to tower above him in the poor lighting.

"What do you want?" Ed demanded, blade still out in front of him. "Greed?" he added.

The man spread his hands at his sides, as if to show Ed that he had no weapons. "I'm coming to you as Ling, Ed, your friend, not the homunculus."

Ed scoffed. "Ling is gone, he was gone the very minute he decided to give in. You're not him; you just look like him."

"I am Ling," he insisted, and then, grin becoming sharper and more menacing, "and I am Greed." His expression returned to normal. "I'm still your friend. How is your search going?" He eyed the automail blade. "I see your body is not restored, should I assume the same is true of your brother?" When Ed didn't answer, Ling looked around in the shadows, half expecting the suit of armor to be somewhere behind Ed. "Where is Alphonse, anyway? Isn't he always with you?" When Ed still didn't respond, Ling pressed, "Did you quarrel?"

"No!" Ed snapped. "He's looking for something, that's all! We didn't fight. What are you _doing_ here?" he asked warily, retracting the blade when he determined that the homunculus truly had no weapons on his person. He slid his hand over the switch on the wall to turn on the lights and saw Ling blink at the sudden brightness in a disturbingly human way.

"I know where you can find the Philosopher's Stone," he said bluntly, still with that maddening grin, and Ed frowned.

"I don't trust you," he said, equally blunt.

Ling pouted. "Why not?" he protested, sounding hurt. "What would be in this for me?"

Ed raised his eyebrows, taking on a cocky tone. "Well, the Philosopher's Stone, for one. Obviously if you really do know where it is, then you can't get to it yourself. So you and the rest of the homunculi want to use me. Why should I believe this isn't some kind of trap?"

"Why would I want to trap you?" Ling said innocently.

A sarcastic sneer spread over Ed's face. "Greed might want to trap me."

Dropping the innocent wide-eyed look, Ling-Greed lowered his voice to seriousness. "Something is happening in Amestris," he said levelly. "Something big. The stone is going to be created with or without you. I'm only telling you this because I know you devoted your entire life to finding it, and as your friend, I want you to succeed. Nothing more." With that statement, Ling was out the window, presumably the same way he came in.

Ed stood staring at the place where the homunculus stood. Could it really be true? There was a way to make the Philosopher's Stone? It sounded like a trap, but it also sounded like a lead. Why wasn't his brother here? He needed to talk to Al about this!

Remembering his brother's letter, he searched for it in the pile of notes on his desk, tearing it open and scanning the page. It was just a short note, written in code of course, basically saying that he was finding interesting things but nothing concrete. _Just like Ed had been doing in Central for the past six months_. They were both stalled.

When Ed slept he didn't dream about homunculi or alchemy or red stones, he dreamed he was once again in Aquaroya chasing the theif Psiren, but he wasn't fifteen anymore, he was seventeen, and instead of calling him "little boy" in a teasing grown up voice she grabbed him by the chin and kissed him, and the kiss went on through the dream as if time were suspended. When he woke up he woke with a start, sweating and aroused and disgusted with himself and unable to fall back asleep.

* * *

"You're wasting your time," Greed said lazily, lounging against a pillar and eating from plates of fruit that were piled around him. "He's not going to help you create the stone."

The whirring noises that came from the center of the room increased, and the Father turned to face him. "Perhaps not willingly," came the deep voice, rumbling through the room.

"Humans are so stupid," complained Envy, his voice changing as his form changed from that of a plain farm woman to the androgynous green haired shape he seemed most comfortable in. "They're all determined to be miserable no matter what happens. I thought it was every alchemist's dream to possess the Philosopher's Stone?" He looked around for Gluttony but saw only Greed, dressed as always in his brightly colored Xingian robes and devouring plate after plate of exotic fruits. "Why do you eat, anyway?" he demanded, coming to stand behind the new homunculus. "You know that body doesn't need it."

Greed looked up at him with that damnable grin. "I'm Greed," he said, mouth full. "I'm always hungry."

Envy sighed loudly. "I'm tired of keeping that Fullmetal brat out of trouble _just in case we need him._ If he'll never cooperate, I'd rather just get rid of him." He threw a glance toward the bearded man in the white robes. "Can't I just get rid of the brat?" he begged.

"And who would take his place?" the Father inquired, and Envy shrugged.

"Another alchemist? There's got to be other alchemists, what about that Dr. Marco?"

Greed looked up from his meal long enough to speak. "He won't cooperate because he doesn't trust us," he said, swallowing nearly an entire pear. "He wants that stone for his brother; he'd never let it fall into our hands. We'll have to find a selfish alchemist who wants nothing but the power of the stone and doesn't care about the rest of the world. Ed's not selfish."

"Ed's not selfish," Envy mimicked, sneering at him. "They're all selfish, those humans," he said, waving a hand in the air and turning around with a flounce. "Every last one of them. I'll find a way to make him selfish."

"Don't hurt him," Ling called after Envy's retreating form.

"I would never," Envy called back, and Greed turned his attention back to the plates of food in front of him.

* * *

The Colonel folded his hands in front of himself, letting his wrists rest on the deep green of the blotter on his desktop. "Yes, a mission, and yes, now," he said blandly.

"I thought you were trying to help us!" Ed protested. "You've let me keep up my research uninterrupted for this long, what's so important that you have to send _this_ alchemist?"

"I'm sure you'll find it very important," Roy said in the haughty tone of a man who knows when he's right. "I need you to go to Youswell."

Ed opened his mouth as if he was about to let out a barrage of objections, stopped, and then closed it again. "Youswell?" he echoed meekly. "What's in Youswell?"

Roy waved a hand as if to dismiss all conversation. "Same thing as every town in the west, a mine. I need you to inspect it." He let a smile creep into the edges of his lips. "And your brother is in Youswell."

"I know my brother is in Youswell," Ed said loudly, but with no fight in his voice. "What, did he ask you to send me there?" he said almost hopefully, but Roy shook his head.

"No, I really do need an inspection of the mine. If you and your brother blow anything up, or damage any property in any way, I'll have you both inspecting every mine in the west before you're allowed in the front doors of the Central library again," he said sternly, his eyes narrow. "And _don't_ slack on writing a full report, in fact, I want it on my desk before you even arrive. Send it ahead of you on one of the military trains."

Ed was quiet for a full minute. "Thanks," he said finally.

"Behave," Roy warned him.

* * *

Ed tried to keep a low profile on the train but after several days of travel when he finally arrived in Youswell he knew it was impossible. He was somewhat of a celebrity there, after all. So was his brother. He wondered what Alphonse had found so important to study out there in the mining town, and couldn't wait to see him again.

He felt yet another pang of guilt stabbing at him. It had been so long that Al had been a soul trapped in a suit of armor that when his mind though "Alphonse" he automatically envisioned that armor. That horrible, hulking, clanking, frightening looking armor that was nothing like the sweet, smart, gentle soul inside. Thinking harder, his mind didn't even next recall Alphonse as a child, but the starving, emaciated body with the tangled hair and empty eyes he had seen at the gate. _"I can't go with you," _it had told him. _"You aren't my soul."_

The town hadn't changed much since he had been there, when had it been? When he was twelve. When he got off the train he spotted his brother's familiar armor right away, talking to one of the townsmen, and, swinging his suitcase at his side, waved and hollered at him.

It was almost comical how the suit of armor turned its head and seemed to jump in surprise, and Ed was certain he could see those strange glowing eyes light up at the sight of him. "Brother!" cried the tinny voice.

A grin spread across Ed's face for the first time in months. "How ya doin', Al?" he said, barely able to restrain his excitement.

"What are you doing here?"

He stuck himself in the chest with his thumb. "Colonel Mustang sent me to inspect the mines," he said importantly. "I told him I'd be glad to, seeing how I'd get to see you!"

If it was possible for a helmet to show a concerned expression, Al certainly did. He poked Ed in the side with one of his leather gauntlets and Ed jumped, dropping his suitcase on the ground.

"Hey!" he protested.

"You're too skinny, Brother," Al admonished him. "Have you been eating enough? Remember, you have to eat enough for my body too, I don't want it to starve before we can get it back!"

"I have been eating, I-" he began, but Al was already ushering him into the only inn in the town, picking up the suitcase he had dropped. He was recognized immediately, and a cheer went up around the inn hailing the Fullmetal Alchemist. Ed glowed with all the attention and was soon hamming it up in typical Edward fashion, allowing himself to be stuffed with good dinner and drink.

The story of how he traded the deed for the town for a meal and a nights stay was told twice by the townsmen and once by Ed himself, and Al wasn't sure which of the three versions was the most outrageous, but he knew it was all in fun.

"You've grown, boy!" said one of the men, shoving a mug of golden-colored beer into his hand. "Last we saw you you were just a little thing, you even eighteen yet?"

Ed held onto the drink and took a sip, feeling the carbonation go straight to his head. "Seventeen," he said proudly. "By the time I'm eighteen I'll be even taller!"

Although he could not physically smile, inside Al felt like he was glowing with pride for his brother. Not because he finally gained a couple inches, but because of all the little things that showed how he was starting to grow up. The wild stories about the antics of the Fullmetal Alchemist were just that anymore: wild stories. They made for good legends but weren't likely to be repeated. Ed was growing into his talent, less likely to demolish half a city in order to catch a villain and even less likely to throw a tantrum at being teased about his height.

"Hello Mr. Fullmetal Alchemist," said a girl who had been standing shyly to the side of his brother for several minutes now. Al watched Ed blink a few times, then say "hi," warily.

She smiled. "You don't recognize me?" she teased, and Ed screwed up his face trying to remember a girl from Youswell he may have met.

"Uhh," he stalled, and Al could see his cheeks were turning faintly pink as the girl batted her eyelashes.

"I know who she is, Brother," Al put in, having recognized her right away.

"I see you're still wearing that armor," she said smiling.

"Yeah," Al said, unsure of what else to say to that. "I guess I'm the only one of us who looks the same… what are you doing here in Youswell?"

"I came to visit my uncle, just for a few days, my cousin and his wife just had a baby-"

"Klose!" Ed burst out finally, and she laughed at him.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to remember me, Edward. What are you doing here, anyway?" she asked curiously.

He promptly took out his silver watch and showed it to her. "I'm a State Alchemist now, I've come to inspect the mines."

She laughed again. "I know you're a State Alchemist," she told him, her eyes twinkling. "Everyone knows you're a State Alchemist." She touched her fingers lightly to his arm. "Would you like to go outside with me for a bit?" she asked boldly. "Look at the stars?"

"The stars?" Ed repeated dumbly. "Uh, but everybody's in here."

"I know, it's crowded isn't it?" she said. "It's been a while since we've seen each other," she added, her fingers tightening around his arm.

Ed looked over at his brother, who for some reason seemed to be laughing at him. He frowned, feeling like he was missing something important in the conversation, and then yelped as the empty glass was tugged out of his hand and replaced with a full one.

"Hey, is he even old enough to drink?" one man asked good naturedly.

"He's the Fullmetal Alchemist, he gave us this town, he can eat and drink here as much as he wants!" came the response, and another cheer went up through the inn.

It was late into the night when the brothers finally turned in for the night, and it was the first time they had been able to talk alone since Ed arrived on the train. Ed sat on the edge of the narrow bed facing his brother, who sat on the edge of the opposite bed, and looked out the window at the clear night sky. "Wow, Al, look at those stars, you can see every single one." He was startled when he heard Al laugh at him. "What?" he demanded.

"Oh, Brother, it was so funny watching you and Klose!" he said between what could only be described as metallic giggles.

Ed folded his arms in front of himself. "Why was it funny? She sure was acting weird," he added.

"Ed, she _likes_ you. She probably has a crush on you or something." Al laughed again as he watched his brother sputter indignantly.

"She does not!" he protested, but his cheeks were turning pink again.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Brother?" Al asked then, changing the subject.

Ed leaned back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head. "I told you, I came to inspect the mine."

"Did you really? Or," he asked, sounding hopeful, "did you just come to see me?"

Ed smiled up at the ceiling. "Believe it or not, I think Colonel Mustang sent me here because he knew I missed you," he said. "Imagine that, he's actually doing something nice for us for once!"

"Don't' say that," Al chided. "He does everything he can for us, you know that!"

Ed raised his feet off the ground for a moment and that flung himself back into a sitting position so he could look his brother in the "eyes." "Al," he said seriously, "I've been doing everything I can to find a way to restore you, I really have."

"I know," Al said enthusiastically. "And so have I. I don't want you to feel like you have to do it all yourself-"

"It's been _years_, Al, and we're not any closer to restoring you than we were when we started out!" Ed complained. "We may know more about the Philosopher's Stone than any other alchemist alive today, but we're not any closer to our goal!"

"I thought we were going to stop looking for the Stone," Al said softly. "I thought we were going to look for another way."

"I _am_ looking for another way!" Ed said miserably. "I swear to you, Al, I'm doing everything I can. I'm not just hanging around Central goofing off!"

He could hear the metal shifting as the suit of armor sat forward, those haunted glowing eyes coming closer to Ed's. "Sometimes I wish you were goofing off in Central," Al said quietly.

Ed blinked. "What?"

"You look like you haven't been eating, and, Brother, you're so pale, you look like you've been inside for weeks! I wanted to give you some time to yourself-"

"I don't _want_ time to myself!" Ed said loudly, standing up and starting to pace back and forth over the floorboards. He had taken his boots off for bed and his steps were a constant thump-STOMP thump-STOMP.

"You should enjoy life a little!" Al said. "I've been out here researching mineral alchemy so that you could take some time to be a regular guy! Have some fun, date some girls – Brother, you're seventeen, you're alive and there's people who care about you! Don't ignore life completely!"

"I don't care about girls, I don't care about other people! I want to fix what I did to you-"

"We did it together," Al said sternly. "We've been over this time and again. You're not the only one responsible for our sins."

"Yeah but I'm the only one who paid the price," Ed muttered bitterly.

"You lost your limbs!" Al protested.

Ed stared down at his automail hand, flexing the metal fingers open and closed. "I don't mind the automail. It's nothing. It's nothing compared to what I did to _you_."

"I'm sorry," Al said quietly, and Ed stopped pacing and stared at him.

"For what?"

"I'm sorry I left you in Central. We're not much good without each other, are we?"

Ed kept staring at him.

"I can't get at the information I really want here, because I'm not you, I'm not a State Alchemist so I don't have any authority. You, apparently, can't even take care of yourself when I'm not around. Tell me you didn't spend the night in the library."

"I might have," Ed mumbled, looking down at the floorboards. "Al, don't be sorry. I'm the one who's sorry. We won't split up like that again, we work better together, all right?"

"Tomorrow we'll go down in the mines, I want to show you some things I've been working on," Al said brightly.

"You can look at my research, I brought it all with me," Ed said, relieved that their conversation was falling into its old patterns.

Al didn't sleep that night, he never did, he simply sat on the bed and stared out the window of the inn at the stars and thought and thought. Sometimes he stared at his sleeping brother, watching him turn and frown and mumble in his sleep, reaching over more than once to pull his shirt down over his stomach. Sometimes Al wondered, since he spent so much time just watching and thinking while the rest of the world slept, if once his body was restored he would sleep for another seven years just to give his brain the rest it deserved.

When Ed slept he dreamed of Klose blinking her twinkling brown eyes at him and laying her fingers lightly on his arm, and in his sleep he curled in on himself and groaned. When he woke briefly in the night he wondered why all his dreams lately had been about girls. He used to dream about alchemy text books and farm life and military life when he wasn't having nightmares. But he never had nightmares when his brother was standing watch while he slept.

* * *

Roy Mustang stared out his window, trying not to look down at the mounds of paperwork that covered his entire desk. He was tapping the top of his pen against the tallest pile in a absent rhythm, taptaptaptap, when his secretary (the new one) appeared in the doorway. "Sir, an urgent phone call for you," she said, and he nodded, picking up the phone on his desk.

"Colonel Mustang," he answered routinely. Everything was urgent these days.

"Yes, is this the commanding officer of Major Edward Elric?" came the voice, crackling over the bad connection.

"This is he," Roy said, rolling his eyes, wondering what kind of disaster had occurred this time. He had warned Ed not to make trouble!

"There's been an incident-"

"What's he done this time and how much does the military owe," Roy asked, sounding bored.

"He's been injured and is in the West City hospital-"

Roy's eyes widened. "How seriously? What happened?"

"He's in a coma," the voice crackled. "There was some kind of explosion and there are reports that it was alchemical; witnesses say they saw a flash of light before the building was destroyed-"

"Is Alphonse with him?"

"We haven't been able to locate the brother, only the armor he always wears. Fullmetal was found unconscious laying over the armor but there was no one inside."

"You found the armor? Where is it?" Roy asked urgently.

"At West headquarters, in investigations, it's pretty well damaged but we think we have all the pieces, but there was no way to tell where the brother might have gone."

"Don't do anything with it," Roy instructed, his mind racing. "I need a full report, talk to all the witnesses, I want to know everything," he barked out, not even fully aware of what he was saying. "I'm coming to West City to get him, don't let anything happen to him!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: **After reading a bunch of comments about how I seem to be mixing the anime and the manga, and being like, no I'm not, I realized that I WAS. Oops. I forgot that the very beginning of the manga has a different timeline than the anime. Ah well. I'm not going to go back and change it, I don't think, because it doesn't really effect the rest of the story either way. But anyway, yeah, this was supposed to be mangaverse only. My bad.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Two**

The military in West City didn't know the Flame Alchemist. Roy scowled. Ed was known all over the country, but these people didn't know the mighty Flame Alchemist? He had to show his State Alchemist watch _and_ military ID card to be allowed any information about Fullmetal?

Before seeing Ed, who was still unconscious, Roy demanded to see the armor, not knowing or fully realizing what he expected to find until he saw the eyes in the helmet unlit, dark, and lifeless, and swallowed hard. It was eerie; to him, this armor had been the only form of Alphonse he's known and he shuddered, unable to shake the feeling that he was touching a dead body. Slowly, he pulled the helmet off and saw just what he unconsciously expected: the blood seal was destroyed.

Had the brothers done the impossible? Had they found a way to restore Alphonse's body? Did the alchemical reaction destroy an entire building? If that was true, what had they sacrificed? And where _was_ Alphonse?

Roy sat by the hospital bed, watching Ed's shallow breathing and waiting for the doctor to talk to him. There was a bandage around the boy's head; either he was unconscious from a head injury or from some type of alchemy. With Alphonse missing, the only one who knew what happened was Ed. Roy tried not to dwell on the possibility of Ed not waking up at all.

His attention snapped to the figure in the bed when Ed began to turn his head, mumbling and shaking, and Roy thought he might be waking up. "Ed, Ed, wake up," he said quietly, trying to sound comforting. "You're all right," he said, having no idea whether he spoke the truth or not. In a few minutes Ed quieted again, having never opened his eyes.

When the doctor finally came to talk to Roy he told him the most serious of Ed's injuries was to his head. They were monitoring his brain activity and he had periods of none at all, indicating that he had fallen onto a coma, interspersed with times of active brain waves but still no consciousness. "He was awake when they brought him in," the doctor added. "It wasn't until some time in the night when he fell into the coma."

"Did he say what happened?" Roy pressed, his hands gripping the arms of the chair he sat in, staring hard at the pale face of his subordinate.

"He said a lot of things that didn't make any sense," the man said. "He said, 'I tried but I don't know if it worked' and he kept talking about envy and being attacked by envy, or something like that."

"The homunculus," Roy said under his breath. "It could have been anything. That's not enough information, I need him to wake up and talk to him myself," he muttered, still staring at the figure in the bed.

"He will likely wake up eventually," the doctor said, turning even more serious. "But understand, Colonel Mustang, he may not remember what happened at all. Amnesia is common in patients with head trauma. Its possible he may not be able to tell you anything more than I have." Roy started to say something, but the doctor continued. "There haven't been any indications of brain damage as of yet," he admitted, "but the human brain is a strange organ. We wont know anything until he's awake."

"Brain damage?" Roy echoed.

"It's simply a possibility, Colonel-"

Roy stood. "I want him moved to the hospital in Central as soon as possible. They have the best neurologists in the country and I want to make sure he has the best treatment available," he ordered, looking down at the boy in the bed, trying to exert come kind of control over the situation. He had to get the boy out of the West, he thought irrationally, he had no control of anything here in the West. If he could only get Ed to Central-

"It isn't safe to move him until he is at least awake, and able to maintain consciousness," the doctor said firmly. "At that point I would recommend transferring him, he would certainly recover better in more familiar surroundings."

"The boy is a quick healer," Roy said with confidence. "I want him back in Central as soon as possible."

"Brain trauma is a tricky thing," the doctor repeated, and Roy simply stared at the bandage around Ed's head. He would be fine.

hr

Roy spent the night in the chair next to Ed's bed, and had dozed of eventually in the early hours of the morning. When he woke up he opened his eyes to Ed's pale gold ones staring directly at him. "Fullmetal?" he asked softly. "Are you awake?"

Ed brought a hand up to touch the bandage around his head. "My head hurts," he said faintly.

"Yes, you got hurt," Roy said, still speaking quietly. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Where's Alphonse?" Ed whispered, and Roy swallowed.

"I don't know, I was hoping you could tell me that," he said, forcing his voice to be neutral.

Ed squeezed his eyes shut suddenly, pressing his head back into the pillow. "Envy," he hissed out. "Envy got him. I tried to- stop him, and I tried to- save him-" he choked back a sob. "But he's not here."

Roy felt the blood drain from his face. Ed hadn't tried to restore his brother at all. The alchemical light people had seen was Ed trying to defend his brother. He could see tears in the corners of Ed's eyes, and awkwardly placed what he hoped was a comforting hand over Ed's own. How would Ed live without his brother? He'd barely been able to function for a few weeks away from him! His only family, the only Elric left was gone- Roy felt himself choking back a sob of his own.

"Hey, Colonel, don't cry, I'm not dead," Ed said to him, and Roy looked at him in surprise. Puzzled, he watched Ed bring a finger up to his eyes and frown when he felt the moisture. "I guess you're making me cry too." He wiped his fingers on the white hospital sheets. "So where's Al?"

"Where's Al?" Roy repeated stupidly, because there was nothing else he could say. He was still reeling from Ed's confirmation that Alphonse was gone, and now-?

Ed pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around the room. "Yeah, where is he?" he repeated.

"Do you remember what you just told me?" Roy said slowly, feelings of panic rising up in him.

Ed thought for a minute. "I told you to quit crying- where'd Al go?"

"Fullmetal, you were hurt, you hurt your head, you must have some short term memory loss-"

Ed raised his eyebrows, and reached up once more to touch the bandage on his head. Then he scowled. "I do not," he said stubbornly. "Why wont you tell me where my brother is? Is he okay?" He watched as Roy opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something, and then closed it, with no information forthcoming. "He's not?" Ed demanded, his voice rising.

"Your brother died," Roy said, still awkward, feeling inadequate, somehow, and strange, delivering news to the one who had just told him, and felt his stomach twist when Ed's eyes widened.

"What? That's impossible! My brother can't die, he _can't_ be killed, he's a suit of armor, what-"

"I saw the armor," Roy said sadly. "The blood seal was destroyed."

The devastation was plain in Ed's eyes. "How- who-"

"You just told me it was Envy." Roy said, as gently as he could.

"Envy…" Ed repeated, his voice trailing off. Then he frowned. "No. It's not true, my brother isn't dead, I don't believe it," he said, looking at Roy accusingly. "You must have made a mistake," he insisted.

Roy swallowed. "Ed, you told me yourself-"

Ed's eyed widened as the memory resurfaced again, fresh and new a second time, and choked out, "Envy did it, I saw him do it, I tried to stop him-" and this time Ed was crying for real, full sobs, curling up in the bed and pressing his face into the pillow.

There was nothing Roy felt he could offer. What could he say to a boy who had lost his only family? Not knowing what else to do, Roy sat beside him a rubbed his back, up and down, but instead of calming, Ed went from sobbing to screaming for his brother. Roy tried to hold him but the boy was flailing uncontrollably, knocking him easily aside with his powerful metal limbs, and the nurses came running into the room with needles, injecting him with something that made him sleep again.

* * *

Ed did not ask about Al again for the duration of his stay in West City hospital. When the doctor was certain he was able to remain conscious he released him to Roy to transfer him to the hospital in Central. Ed seemed to have decided that Al was waiting for him in Central, and Roy couldn't help but wonder if one of the nurses had put the idea in his head. The doctor had forbid him from mentioning his brother's death, because he said the sedatives required to calm him down were hurting his mental recovery, and that it was wise to wait until at least his short term memory had returned to tell him so that he did not have to keep re-living the trauma.

The doctor also told Roy that loss of short-term memory was normal in patients that had suffered head injuries, and that as he began to heal it would return, but Roy wanted to hear everything from a doctor in Central before he would believe it.

He had out a note card on Ed's nightstand saying, "Ed, you're in the hospital in West City. You're going home on Tuesday," so that he did not have to keep telling him where he was and when he could go home every five minutes. In fact just then he watched Ed look as if he was confused, look around the room, read the card that was propped against the lamp, and then reach up and rub his head.

"What's today?" he asked instead.

"Monday," Roy answered patiently.

"So I'm going home tomorrow," Ed stated, and Roy nodded.

"Right."

"Home to Central or home to Rizembool?"

"Central. The best doctors are there."

Ed rubbed his head again. "Where are my notes?" he asked then.

Roy raised his eyebrows. If Ed was getting bored, then this was a good sign, because his memory was getting long enough to need something to occupy his mind other than asking Roy the same questions over and over again. "Ah, did you bring them here with you? Or did you leave them in Central?" he asked carefully.

Ed thought for a minute. "I brought them here," he said finally. "They were in my suitcase, where's my suitcase?"

"I would guess it was in the inn when it was destroyed," Roy assumed.

Ed frowned. "You told me not to wreck anything while I was here," he remembered. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, Ed."

He looked over at the card on the nightstand again, reading it yet again. "I guess I hurt my head, huh?" he said then. "And I can't remember anything?"

"Apparently not," Roy told him.

"Huh," was the response. "That must be annoying for you."

In actuality Roy was very worried. He was in West City, where no one knew who he was and he had no unit to command an independent investigation from, and no one to talk to and trade theories with. He was solely responsible for Fullmetal until he got him to Central, and then he would be responsible for contacting the Rockbells and telling them what had happened. Would they be able to hold a funeral for Alphonse with no body present? Would Ed even be able to attend it, if he couldn't seem to remember his brother's death?

"What day is today?" Ed asked him again, and he sighed.

"Monday."

"Oh good, we're going home tomorrow. Then I can see Al."

Roy felt as if he had been punched in the gut. "That's right," he said, unable to bear watching Edward fall apart again at the news, but feeling like a sickening liar even as he spoke.

* * *

It was the day of Alphonse's funeral. It had been a quiet event, with only a few people present. There was, of course, no body, but there were plenty of tears. There was a hushed air among those who had gathered to remember him: the brothers Elric had stood for the impossible dream, the unconquerable will, the possibility of impossible success and impossible forgiveness. Everyone who had come to know them in Central had come to truly believe that one day they would succeed at reaching their goal, that one day the dead would come back to life, and that one day there would be two Elric brothers, both in the flesh, blazing new paths in the world of alchemical science. It was a shock to everyone to learn that this would never happen.

After the funeral Winry and Pinako, who where the only ones present who had ever known Alphonse in the flesh, went with Roy to Gracia Hughes's home to pick up Ed. The doctor had advised against Ed attending the funeral, and although the Rockbells protested at first, after spending a few days with Ed they agreed it would be better for everyone not to mention Al's death until Ed was able to remember it.

Pinako had argued that Ed should be at home in Rizembool, with his family, recovering, but the doctor had told her that he needed to be close to the neurologists in Central. They were puzzled as to why his short term memory was not returning but assumed it was a form of brain damage, and told them he needed to be around skilled professionals in order to recover as much as he possibly could. Roy did not mention to them the violent mood swings Ed was prone to, only because he did not want to cause the women any more heartbreak than they had already endured. It was hard enough for them when Ed himself insisted that he should remain in Central. "I have work to do," he told them, "and besides, Al is here."

When they entered Gracia's home Mr. Hughes greeted Winry with a hug, saying how much she had grown since she last saw her. Winry's eyes went directly to Ed, who was sitting at the coffee table coloring with Elysia. He had grown since she last saw him as well, in fact, it had been almost a year. He looked perfectly healthy and normal, his attention absorbed completely by the coloring book he shared with the little girl.

"Hi Winry," he said when he looked up, standing up to greet the two women. "Hi Aunty." He tipped his head, studying her for a moment. "Winry, what's wrong? Were you crying? Your eyes are all red."

She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Um, maybe its just allergies or something," she said, her voice wavering.

He picked up the newspaper that had been under the coloring book. "Since you're here in Central, Winry, I thought maybe you'd want to see a movie with me or something? Al's busy, but I've been pretty bored lately. There aren't any movie houses in Rush Valley yet, are there?"

She was a little surprised at his suggestion, and it still shocked her to hear him talk about Al as if he was just in the other room because it was exactly the way she felt about his death as well. She looked from the Colonel to her grandmother for permission, wondering if it was a good idea to go wandering around Central with Ed when he was obviously so sick.

Ed poked her in the side. "What, are you afraid I'm gonna get lost or something? Hey, my memory is a lot better now. See, I only said hi to you once since you've got here, and you've been here at least five minutes now." He paused for dramatic effect. "Right?" he asked, and he was smiling when he said it so she couldn't tell if he was being funny or serious, or some combination of both. "I even went to work yesterday," he added, trying to persuade not Winry but Roy and Pinako.

Finally Winry shrugged. "I've been in Central enough to know my way around now, you know," she told the adults. "Even if Ed _does_ get lost, we'll be fine."

"I won't get lost," Ed said stubbornly.

Roy wanted to take the young woman aside and reiterate how important it was not to mention Alphonse's death, how upset and violent Edward could get, but she was dragging him out the door before either he or Pinako could stop them. Winry was an intelligent girl, he told himself. She would be able to take care of Ed just fine.

* * *

"How was the movie?" Gracia asked them conversationally over dinner.

"Fine," Ed said, his mouth full.

"Scary," Winry added. "We should have asked Sheiska along, it was about aliens."

"Do you remember it at all?" Roy asked curiously.

"Of course I remember it!" Ed said, immediately on the defensive.

"What was it about?"

"Aliens," he responded promptly.

"Who was in it?"

"Actors," he said, but his confidence was wavering.

"Ed, the part where the spaceship opened up and the lights beamed all the people up inside?" Winry prompted him, but he looked at her blankly. "You whispered to me how they used the film to make it look like they were disappearing, but they weren't really?"

"Yeah," he said uncertainly. "They can do that now, it's like a trick with the cameras…"

"You don't remember it at all," Roy said, disappointment plain across his face.

Ed pushed his food around on his plate. "Winry got scared and grabbed my hand," he said after a minute. He looked at her questioningly. "Right?"

She nodded, her eyes lighting up. "_That's_ what you remember?"

He blushed. "Yeah."

Pinako and Roy exchanged worried glances.

"Hey, don't look like that!" Ed protested. "I'm fine, I'm gonna be fine. Don't worry about me!"

Later, after dinner, when Winry and Ed were helping Gracia clean up in the kitchen, Roy and Pinako spoke quietly in the living room. "You know, he may not ever get any better than this," she told him, sucking in on her pipe although it was not lit.

"He seems like he is," Roy argued, but Pinako shook her head.

"He seems like that to you because you want it to be so. He's just adjusting; he isn't improving. I've spoken to the doctors myself, you know," she reminded him

"He went back to work in the lab this week," Roy told her, ignoring her statement. "Everything went fine, as far as I know."

"Edward always did keep meticulous notes," Pinako said cynically.

"When the doctors say he wont get any better, I'll send him home to you," Roy promised. "Until then he needs to stay here, near the hospital. This is the best hospital in the country, and he deserves the best."

Pinako sucked in on her unlit pipe once more. "You really think you can give him what's best?" She nodded towards the doorway, where she had seen Ed standing with his arms folded several minutes ago. "Edward? Is Central where you want to stay?"

Roy spun around, not having realized he was being eavesdropped on, and met gold eyes under frowning eyebrows.

"Well, yeah, Al and I have work to do here," he told her. "Sorry we don't get to see you much, Aunty," he added. "Maybe we'll visit in a few months?"

"That would be very nice," she told him, but she stared hard at Roy, and he couldn't help but feel she was criticizing him yet.

* * *

Ed pulled his silver watch out of his pocket, flipping it open to check the time, and then recorded it in his lab notes. He had several experiments going at once, and two of them at least were seeming very promising.

It had been weird coming back to work. The other alchemists spoke to him either in hushed tones, as if they were afraid of upsetting him, or loudly, as if they were speaking to someone who was mentally deficient. He tried to shake it off, diving back into his work after reading thoroughly over his previous notes. He found Al's notes in with his own in the back of the binder, dating back to several months ago, and remembered Al working on the projects with him at the beginning. The experiment had taken a turn neither of them expected, and Al would be surprised to find out what the end result was.

Pinako was right, Ed _had_ always been a meticulous note-taker, and he spent several minutes every hour reviewing his records of what he had done that day. He mostly worked alone in the labs, engrossed in his own work, which is what he had always done, and gradually the other alchemists came to assume he was back to normal.

He wasn't back to normal. He could feel it. He wondered if he should be taking notes on his entire life, not just his experiments, because he found himself unable to remember simple things like what he had eaten for breakfast. Every time he had a conversation with Roy he tried only to respond to things Roy said to him, not to start any topics of his own, because he was afraid every time he did he was repeating himself. Everything he said, it seemed, was met with a sad sigh, and left Ed feeling like he had said something wrong.

While he was waiting for some of his chemicals to turn, he flipped back in his notebook to work on his letter to Al. He never wrote his brother. Neither of them were much for writing letters, although he did remember getting a few brief notes from Al a while back. Odd how he remembered some things but not others. He didn't have much to say really, other than _when do you think you'll be back in Central_ and he frowned at the page. Maybe he had already written Al and asked him that? He tried to remember, but it made him feel funny inside, as if maybe he and Al had quarreled or something, and that's why Al never came to see him in the hospital.

He looked up, taking care not to get lost in thought, and checked his test tubes, recording the new color of the chemicals carefully. When he looked around he saw that he was the only one left at the lab and looked at his watch again, rolling his eyes. He had thought it was around two o'clock, now it seemed to be past six. He shook his head. The doctor had given him certain exercises to do with his brain involving flash cards, and he was pretty sure Roy made him do them every day, but he still ended up with chunks missing out of every day. Not only that, but he couldn't shake this feeling that there was something _major_ he was always forgetting.

He began to put away his notes and chemicals and grabbed his coat off the hook by the door, putting it on on his way out. Once outside the lab he waved a cab and spouted off Roy's address, no problem. When Roy had allowed him to go back to work he wanted to hire a driver for him, but Ed insisted on getting home on his own. Roy made him carry a card in his pocket with his address on it, and Ed stubbornly declared he did not need it, and it turned out he didn't. Ed had no trouble remembering Roy's address.

When Ed got in he saw that he was the only one home. Usually Roy called for takeout when he got home late, and Ed decided to cook something for them both, just to pass the time. He filled a pot with water and set it to boil, vowing not to leave the kitchen so he couldn't possibly forget that the stove was on, knowing that Roy would kill him if he knew Ed had been using the stove when he was home alone. _I'll show him,_ he thought to himself. _It's not like it's hard._

Before he knew it the water was boiling, and, not for the first time, Ed wondered just what he had been doing in the time between turning the stove on and the water boiling. Just standing there? Thinking about something? Looking out the window? It could have been anything. He measured the rice carefully and dumped it in the water, covering the pot and sitting down at the table to watch it, setting his watch out open on the counter. He heard keys in the front door and thought, _busted_, now Roy would never know whether or not Ed could cook something without burning the kitchen down because he would surely take over from this point on.

Without saying hi, Roy went directly for the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey.

"Damn," Ed said. "Bad day?"

Roy rested his forehead on his hand. "Terrible. Where do you want to order from tonight? You must be starving."

"I am, that's why I'm cooking," Ed said with a smirk.

Roy snapped his head up and Ed instantly felt guilty. Roy was obviously stressed about something, now he had given him something else to worry about. "What? What were you thinking?"

Ed gestured towards the stove. "It's fine," he said, sounding more sure of himself than he was. "Don't touch it," he added sharply when Roy stood and made to lift the lid off the pot. "Don't take the lid off until it's done!"

Roy raised his eyebrows. "What kind of masterpiece do you have in there, Fullmetal?" he asked curiously.

"It's just rice. Whenever my mom made rice she said you should never take the lid off, it messes it up somehow." He saw Roy looking at him analytically, the same way he always did when Ed talked about anything at all, really. "Yes, I remember my mom," he said tiredly. "I remember lots of stuff you know. And I wasn't going to burn your house down."

Roy sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, which was not the response Ed expected. "Ed, you're very smart, and I know that about you, it's just hard to keep that in mind when-"

Ed interrupted him. "I know, when my brain's all screwed up. I know," he repeated. He looked down at his watch. "You can take the lid off now, the rice is done."

They ate mostly in silence. Ed had been uncomfortable at first staying with Roy, in fact, originally he had said he would rather just stay at the hospital if he wasn't allowed to be alone, but Roy had overruled his decision and brought him home with him anyway, saying something about having promised to take care of him. They had become a little friendlier with each other, but Ed was still very quiet around him. If they were friends, Ed felt that he should ask Roy what had made his day so terrible and why he came home needing a drink, but what if he had asked that already? He didn't think he did. But he wasn't sure.

"What…" he asked hesitantly, "what happened today?" When Roy's reaction seemed normal, he continued. "What got you so upset?"

Roy shook his head, continuing to eat. "Nothing, it's just politics, that's all. Did you go to your appointment today?"

Ed knew Roy was watching him closely to try to guess whether or not he remembered it, and he said "yes" before he could think back to whether he recalled what happened or not. He knew he went, he never missed his doctor's appointments, there were notes all over the place reminding him to go.

"How did it go?" Roy asked carefully, still watching him.

"I'm getting better," Ed said, dredging up a vague recollection of an office with a grey carpet. Then he was hit with a brief but clear memory. "I looked at flash cards, no, we played a game with flash cards. Like the kid's game, memory. I played for twenty minutes, that's a record. I _am_ getting better."

Roy smiled, and Ed wondered, not for the first time, if Roy had already talked to the doctor and knew exactly how the appointment went.

Ed was twirling his fork around in the empty rice bowl. "You know," he said, even more hesitantly, "there's been something else that's been bothering me. I'm sorry, I probably ask you this all the time."

"That's okay, Ed," Roy said patiently. "It's not your fault. What is it?"

He frowned. "How come Al isn't here?" he asked, and Roy felt his stomach plummet. The first time he had tried to explain his brother's death had been in the hospital, and it had ended in screaming and crying and eventual sedation. And it had happened plenty more after that first time, each time leaving them both drained, although only one of them could remember why.

"He's away," Roy said, but his tone was off, and Ed picked up on it immediately.

"Yeah, that's what the doctor said too. And Hawkeye told me the same thing when I was in your office the other day. But… I kinda feel like everyone's lying to me." Ed looked at him intently, and Roy felt his face burn. Everyone _was_ lying to him.

"I didn't do something to make him mad at me, did I? Cause I guess I can be a jerk sometimes, but-"

"Your brother's not mad at you, Fullmetal," Roy interrupted.

Ed looked at him intently. "Then where is he?" He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a worn notebook. "Look, I'll write it down. This is the last time I'll ask you, I promise. I write all kinds of important stuff in here." When Roy didn't respond, Ed's frown deepened into a scowl. "What the hell, Roy? Why doesn't anyone want to tell me? Look, I remember the important stuff, okay? It's just the little things I don't. I remember who you are, I remember who I am, I know my birthday and Al's birthday and I remember where we were born and I remember growing up. I remember burning down our house and I remember coming here and I remember every single crazy mission you sent us on! Just tell me where he is, it isn't fair to lie to me, cause that's what you're doing, I can tell. I'm not stupid!"

Several minutes passed before Roy answered. He stood up, taking his and Ed's empty bowls and putting them in the small sink, along with the pot, and sat back down.

"Ed," he said slowly. "I have told you where your brother is. You never remember, and you always get upset. You try to hurt yourself. That's why they wouldn't let you out of the hospital for so long. That's why people are lying to you, they don't want you to hurt yourself."

Ed banged his automail hand on the notebook. "I'll write it down," he repeated. "I won't forget. It's not fair not to tell me. I won't do anything stupid. I won't hurt myself. I'm better than I was before. I don't even remember being in the hospital, you know that. You said I wasn't myself then, and I wasn't. I am now. Tell me what happened." His eyes burned with such intensity that Roy squirmed in his seat.

He took a deep breath. "He died," he said, before he could decide against it.

"Al's dead?" Ed repeated, his voice even. "How- how did he die?"

"Envy killed him. In Youswell."

"I got hurt in Youswell," Ed said slowly.

Roy nodded. "That's right."

Tears began to slide freely down his cheeks, and Roy fought the urge to take a step back. It was never right to see another man cry, he had always believed. But Ed was still somewhere between a man and a boy. And he had no one right now, no one but him.

"Was there a funeral?" Ed asked abruptly, and Roy nodded again. "Was I there?"

"No," Roy said softly.

Ed was staring down at his automail hand. "It's all been for nothing then. Our search is over and I didn't even know it." He looked up. "Was it a nice funeral?"

"Yes."

"Winry and Aunty came?"

"Yes."

"I took Winry to the movies and all around Central and stuff, and she had just been to Al's funeral?"

"You remember that?" Roy said, surprised, feeling guilty. If Ed could remember that, maybe he should have been there for the service.

But Ed shook his head, tapping the notebook in front of him. "I wrote it down," he admitted. Then he stood up. "I'm going upstairs," he said shortly.

Roy put a hand on his elbow. "Stay down here."

Ed threw him a glare. "I'm not going to _hurt_ myself, Roy. I just want to be alone," he spat. "I just found out my brother _died_, leave me the fuck /i alone /i ," he cried, screaming the last word and storming up the stairs. Roy rushed up after him only to have the door of his guest room slammed in his face. This wasn't what Ed had done in the hospital, he reasoned. What was a normal response to a loved one's death anyway? Maybe he should respect his wishes. He slid down, back against the door, until he was sitting on the floor, ear pressed to the guest bedroom door, listening to the only remaining Elric sobbing.

Hours later, when Ed had quieted down, Roy went down to the kitchen to heat some water, and tried knocking on Ed's door with a mug of tea in his hand. Ed appeared, swollen and red eyed, thanking him for the tea and closing the door again. It was one in the morning by then and Roy deemed it safe to go to bed.

He woke to a sound he was at first unable to place. When he realized what it was he bolted out of bed and flung open the guest room door. Ed had the chord of the lamp wrapped around his neck and his face had a purplish tint to it. Without stopping to think Roy wrestled it away from him and Ed lay back in bed, gasping for breath. His eyes were open but blank, and he didn't say anything.

"Ed?" Roy tried, but he didn't respond. Soon Ed closed his eyes and his breathing became more even, and Roy was astounded. Had he been asleep all along? Was he hurting himself _in his sleep?_ He took a seat in the armchair by the bed, determined to keep watch for the rest of the night. He picked up the notebook on the nightstand, flipping to the most recent page, and tearing it out. _Stop asking people about Al_, Ed had written. _He's dead now_/ He knew he should tell the doctor about what happened, after all, what if he hadn't woken up to stop him? But it seemed obvious what Ed's subconscious was reacting to. He crumbled the page into a ball and tucked it in to the pocket of his pyjamas.

In the early hours of the morning he crept out of the room just minutes before Ed's alarm was set to wake him up. He had coffee and breakfast ready for him in the kitchen and eyed him carefully when he padded into the room in his pjs and slippers.

"You look like shit," Ed said bluntly, taking Roy by surprise. "Didn't you get any sleep?"

"How did _you_ sleep?" Roy returned without answering.

"Fine. Do you have any stamps? I realized I wrote Al a letter the other day and forgot about it. I should probably send it now before he thinks I forgot about him or something." Roy stared at him, and Ed frowned self consciously. "What?" he asked, "Is my hair sticking up or something?" He looked down, checking to see that his pyjamas were correctly buttoned. "What's the matter with you, Roy? You look weird all of a sudden."

"Nothing."

* * *

Roy rapped a quick knock on the door before pushing it open, late again. These days it seemed he was late for everything he tried to do: perpetually trying to catch up with his own life. He hung his heavy military coat on the rack buy the door and nodded tiredly to his friends, trying not to notice the looks of concern he got from each one of them.

Havoc unstopped the bottle to fill the glass that had been sitting in front of Roy's empty seat, but as he sat down Roy waved him away. "None tonight thanks," he said, and was met with even more concerned stares. "Long day today, but a longer one tomorrow. I don't want to go home drunk and try to look after Ed when I'm half out of my mind."

Havoc shrugged, pouring himself another glass, and said, "Boss seems to be getting a lot better," he said conversationally. "I just saw him in the office the other day, we talked for a little while. He seemed fine. How much looking after could he need any more?"

The poker chips were stacked in the middle of the table and the cards were sitting beside them in two decks, and Roy wondered if he had missed the game entirely. Falman's usual seat was empty and Roy assumed he had already left. He hadn't meant to arrive so late; poker night was usually his only night to really unwind every week. He dropped Ed off at Gracia's each week, which felt disturbingly like dropping him off at a babysitter's, which Ed had even remarked on the week before, but today after parting with Ed he went directly home and crashed in his favorite armchair, sleeping soundly and immediately for hours, not waking up until well after ten.

Roy ignored the question, instead picking up one of the decks and shuffling it absently. Breda stood up, saying he had to be going, and Fuery followed his lead, leaving Roy and Havoc alone at the card table with one empty glass and one full one.

"So," Jean said after a silent minute. "What's been going on that you haven't been telling anyone?"

Roy stared at the bottle, with a look on his face that would normally only come from having consumed nearly half of it, and rubbed his forehead. "Nothing," he said tiredly. "Everything's fine."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Jean said quietly. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

Roy's hand rubbed over his face and forehead a second time, and up through his hair, and he continued to stare down the bottle. "Maybe I haven't."

"Well I know it isn't work, because things have been quiet over at headquarters, as far as I can tell," his friend prompted. "And I know it isn't women, because you've never had any trouble in that area either… right?"

Roy turned to face him and said slowly, "It's Ed."

"I thought he was doing better?"

The dark-haired man sighed. "You're right, he is. He goes to work now, he does nearly everything he normally would." Roy didn't say anything else for nearly a minute.

"So…" Jean pressed. "What's the problem then?"

Ink-black eyes looked up from the bottle, shadowed by dark circles in a too-pale face. "He hurts himself," Roy said, his voice low. "He tries to- he tried to strangle himself with the chord of the lamp, Jean. _In his sleep._"

Havoc set his drink down on the card table, abandoning it entirely. "What do the doctors say?" he asked, not knowing how else to respond. _The Boss trying to kill himself?_ He couldn't imagine it.

Roy looked down again. "I haven't told them. They'd take him away. They'd want him to go back to the hospital, and he doesn't want that! He can have a normal life, his research, its amazing, he's been published in two separate journals last month and-"

"He can't have a normal life if he's dead," Jean said sharply, leaning forward. "And you can't have a normal life if you're staying up all night trying to make sure he's all right."

"He's going to be _fine,_" Roy insisted. "He just needs-"

"He needs a doctor, Roy, he's sick. Has he accepted his brother's death yet?"

Roy looked away, which was an answer in itself. He looked down at his watch. "I've got to go pick him up from Gracia's," he said, flattening any chance of the conversation continuing. "I didn't want to leave him with her for this long as it is." He stood up, and Havoc wheeled away from the table.

"Roy," he said, unwilling to let the conversation drop. "You can't fix everyone."

"I'm not abandoning him to some hospital!" Roy insisted, his hand on the doorknob. "He's been abandoned by everyone else in his life, I'm not going to give up on him too!"

Havoc stared at the door as it slammed shut, feeling powerless in his attempt to help his friend. _It wouldn't be giving up_, he had wanted to tell him, but somehow, he knew Roy wouldn't have listened.

* * *

Winter had come faster than Ed had realized and he left the lab later than he meant to, again. The research he had been working on was getting a lot of attention, and that only drove him to work even harder. The government was happy to provide any funding he asked for, and he had been throwing himself into his work the past few months. By the time he got out of the lab it was late, and there were no cabs to wave down. He thought about calling Roy for a ride, and thought again how much easier it would be for him if he had a room in the military dorm like he used to. Not wanting to bother Roy this late, he decided to just walk home, but he realized within a few minutes that it was a lot colder outside than he had originally thought. Not only were his nose and ears pink and tingling, but his automail ports were beginning to ache, and he groaned, knowing that once winter really settled in so would that constant ache that came with the cold. His arm felt like a lead weight tugging at his shoulder and he could tell he was beginning to limp a bit, and stopped to stomp his feet and rub his hands together to try to warm himself up, but he could feel the gears of his automail beginning to lock up already. Damnit. Now he was really stuck, how could he be so stupid not to bring a warmer coat with him to work? Some job Roy was doing of taking care of him if he had let him leave without a winter coat.

Then he shrugged. He wouldn't be surprised if he had recently yelled at Roy to leave him alone, he can take care of himself just fine. Now, how to get home before he froze? He thought about knocking on one of these doors to ask to use the phone, but then he took a better look at the neighborhood he was passing through and knocked on a very specific door.

"Edward, how are you doing?" said Hawkeye, in control as always of the situation. Ed figured there was nothing on earth that could surprise the woman.

"I'm cold, can I come in?" he said, getting straight to the point.

She stepped back, motioning for him to come inside. "Of course, of course, what were you doing outside in the cold with just that light jacket?" she admonished.

He smiled ruefully. "That's a very good question." He could feel his automail moving smoother already, but the ports still ached and he rubbed at his shoulder. "I think I need to call Roy to come pick me up," he added, and she nodded, handing him the phone.

"I just made a pot of coffee," she told him, "Have a cup, it will help warm you up."

He didn't think a warm drink would help his joints much, but he accepted the mug from her after he got off the phone with Roy, who didn't sound surprised at all when he told him what happened. He hoped he hadn't done this several times already. "Thanks," he said. "Roy said he's in the middle of something at the office, he had to stay late, and he'll be a little while. I wish I had known that, I would have just waited for him there."

"How are you doing these days, Edward?" she asked him kindly, and he shrugged.

"Okay I guess." He wanted to say he was getting better but he knew it wasn't true, and he was pretty sure every one around him could tell that much. "I haven't heard from Al lately, I hope he's doing okay."

Riza seemed startled at his words, but he kept talking.

"It's kind of unusual for him not to write me, I mean, usually he's the one who writes letters and I just read them and then throw them out, but I've actually written him a couple times and he hasn't written me back. I hope I have his address right. No one will tell me where he is, so all I have to go on is the last address I remember. And we all know what my memory is like- what's wrong, Lieutenant?" he asked then, because it seemed like he had upset her in some way.

She blinked, and he swore he saw the beginnings of tears in his eyes. "Edward," she began.

"Do you know where he is?" he asked her urgently. "Because no one ever wants to talk to me about him. It's really weird." He could see her mentally struggling with herself and sighed. "You too then," he said. "You know where he is, I can tell." He took a sip from the mug in front of him. "You know, everyone thinks I forget everything, but I remember enough to know that everyone's hiding stuff from me."

"Think," she said softly. "Do you really not know what happened to him?"

Ed shook his head sadly. "Everyone I ask doesn't want to talk about it."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "Edward, your brother passed away this past summer," she told him gently. "People don't tell you because they don't want to see you upset."

Ed was shaking his head. "Al's not dead," he said. "I know he's not dead, if he were dead, I would know it. I'd remember something like that. I always remember the important stuff."

She watched him, astonished, as he took another sip of coffee. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything? Maybe he does this every time someone tells him? She got up when she heard a knock on the door, and Ed started to follow her. "Finish your coffee, Ed, I need to talk to the Colonel about something," she said, feeling like the liar she knew he thought she was.

Roy looked exhausted when she opened the door and she told him as much.

"I'm fine," he assured her.

"You're not fine," she said quietly. "You miss work, you come in late, you can never concentrate… it's Ed, isn't it? Taking care of him is exhausting you!"

"Ed doesn't need to be taken care of, he's fine," the Colonel said harshly, shaking the flakes of snow that had begun to fall out of his hair. "He's made more headway in the lab in just one month than those other idiots the government pays have in the past ,i year /i , he's obviously fine. He's doing great. He doesn't need to be taken care of," he repeated.

"He went outside in the middle of winter with no coat again, and you know what that does to his limbs. How can you say he doesn't need to be taken care of?" Her voice was stern.

"Riza, he's fine-"

"He doesn't know his brother's dead," she said quietly, and watched Roy's eyes widen.

"You told him about Al?"

"He asked me," she stammered, "and I thought- he seemed like he was normal-"

"He _is_ normal," Roy insisted, "as long as you don't bring _that_ up!"

"What kind of normal is that, Sir?" she hissed, her voice hushed.

Roy ran a hand over his tired face and up through his hair. "He hurts himself at night," he said quietly, looking over her shoulder to make sure Ed wasn't listening. "In his sleep."

"What? What do the doctors say?"

"They don't say anything. I haven't told them. They'd want to lock him up!" he protested, seeing her expression. "He doesn't need that, he's fine!"

"He is _not_ fine, Roy Mustang, and you know it! And _you're_ not fine either, look at you! I bet you haven't slept more than four hours all week, you've got circles under your eyes!"

"Ed!" he called. "Let's go, let's get in the car," he said, handing Ed his coat that he brought with him.

"Thanks Roy," Ed said cheerfully. "Sorry about all this, I won't do it again!"

_Now two of Roy's closest friends didn't believe him_.

* * *

There was a crashing sound, like glass shattering, and Roy came running. His front windows were shattered, his door was off its hinges and Ed was covered in blood. "Wait!" the boy was screaming, tears streaking down his face. "Al, wait, I can do it, I just need more time, there's got to be something, _don't leave me!_ Al!"

"Ed!" he said sharply, looking at the mess, trying to assess the damage.

"Don't you touch him, I can do it, I can save him!" Ed screamed, looking at Roy as if he didn't know who he was and clapping his hands together, pressing them to the unhinged door and causing it to burst into thousands of splinters. Roy found himself wishing for whatever it was the nurses in the hospital had in those syringes.

"Ed, stop!" he said, trying to take control of the situation, but he quickly realized it was of no use. He picked up the phone and dialed the emergency number.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Yeah, my mind's such a sweet thing_

_I wanna do everything_

_What a beautiful feeling…_

"And so," the Fullmetal Alchemist continued, his eyes bright and intelligent, gesturing towards the transmutation circle he had sketched out on the sheet of paper, "all of these lines," he said, crossing out seemingly random parts of the sigil, "are completely unnecessary" -quickly re-sketching the revised version on a second sheet of paper- "in fact, they bog the whole thing down" –he placed a hand over the circle and it glowed blue, and he quickly removed it, smiling up at the fascinated faces studying his every move. "Well, we're not creating a chimera right here, so I'll stop with that-" he looked out at the half-dozen students who were furiously taking notes.

"So starting from the first circle-" one of them said, and Ed held out the first sketch for her to copy, but she shook her head. "No, the very first one, that Andrew drew-"

Ed threw up his hands. "Forget that one! It didn't work!"

"But my teacher said-" the boy called Andrew protested, but the girl interrupted him.

"Because they look so similar," she said, comparing the two. "They both have six points, where the one in the book had only five, but his won't even activate and yours is-"

Ed took all three sheets of loose leaf and spread laid them out in front of the students and raised his eyebrows. "You should be able to answer your own question," he told her, watching her face for the dawning expression of understanding.

"Oh!" she said finally, breathlessly, having left her friends in the dust.

Ed grinned. "Anything else?" he asked of his visitors, not really wanting them to leave. For the past few hours he had hardly even realized where he was, he was so absorbed in the theory of what they were discussing.

"Does the government really keep a warehouse full of human chimeras?" another boy blurted out, only to be shushed by the one who had drawn the original array.

Ed folded his arms. "That would be classified information," he said coolly. "But the making of human chimeras is strictly illegal, and for a good reason," he added. "Forget you even thought about it."

Before he knew it they were leaving, shaking his hand and thanking him for his time, and whispering to each other as they left. The only girl with them, the one Ed figured was the only one in the whole bunch who had any hope of pursuing alchemy any further, turned back to look at him as she was dragged out the door by her friends. She had long blonde hair that reminded him of Winry's. He waved.

The next thing he knew he was sitting under the window, his eyes mid-sentence in a book, and, startled, he turned it over to look at the cover to see what he was reading. Then he looked up at the clock and saw that it was mid-afternoon, and pulled out his notebook.

It was an interesting day today, Ed thought. Usually his days were all the same, and they ran together. Anything out of the ordinary routine tended to stick a little longer in his memory, but he wanted to make sure he wrote down that he got visitors before he forgot, in case the girl ever came back.

He wasn't sure what else he did, but it must not have been anything awful or boring because he was in a fairly good mood. The pills they gave him there made him feel kind of funny, in fact, at first he had refused to take them, but now they were part of his daily routine. He knew, even if he forgot everything else, that he was sick and needed to take them. He couldn't remember what had changed his mind; his notebook didn't say a thing about it.

He thought vaguely that he might have gone outside, and looked down at his shoes and pants for evidence that he might have been sitting on the ground. He opened and closed his automail hand, and saw a few blades of grass in the joints and set to work pulling them out for a bit.

By the middle of the day he was still staring blankly down at his mechanical hand, and, feeling cramped, he stood up and stretched, and wandered back to his room, thinking he might pick up a book to read.

Although it wasn't the usual policy, he had a room to himself. He suspected Roy must have pulled a string or two for him when he learned that Ed was sick enough to have to stay in the hospital all the time. So there really shouldn't have been anyone else in his room when he opened the door.

Logically, there couldn't possibly be someone sitting cross legged on his bed.

There were other sick people here who saw things no one else could; it must be starting to happen to him too.

"Greetings!" said the hallucination.

"You're not really here, my brain is just doing something weird right now," Ed intoned, walking right past the figure and over to his shelves, skimming the titles of his books for one that struck his fancy.

"Hey, what's gotten into you?" the creature asked.

"I'm sick, leave me alone." Ed frowned and shook his head. "Geez, I must be getting worse, now I'm talking to myself. I never did that before."

"Did you hear the news?" the vision pressed.

"What news?" Ed said warily.

"The emperor was finally killed, you may now address _me_ as Emperor Ling Yao." Ling puffed up his chest and folded his arms, narrowing his eyes as he looked down at the blond-haired alchemist.

Ed stared at him hard. "Ling, what are you doing in my hallucination?" he demanded.

"Wait a minute, why do you think you're hallucinating?" Ling countered. "What kind of sickness do you have? You don't mean you're crazy, do you?" the emperor demanded.

"Yeah," Ed said slowly. "That's what I meant. What do you want?"

Ling raised his eyebrows. "Well, I came to warn you. If you're not going to help us with the Philospher's Stone, you should probably get out of Central. That is," he added, "_if_ you haven't changed your mind?"

"Of course I haven't changed my mind!" Ed snapped.

"But I don't understand why you don't want it. You could restore your brother's body and your own, and cure this sickness you have-" Ling cocked his head. "What do you care what happens to other people as long as you get what you want?"

Ed shoved Ling square in the chest, and felt the Xingian's skin turn to lead at the contact. Ling didn't even stumble backward. "First," Ed spat, "I haven't even seen my brother in almost a year, and two, I care about other people because I'm _human_, Greed."

Ling pouted. "That's not fair. I care about other people too." His grin suddenly disappeared, and his face turned serious. "You can't still be trying to save _everyone_, Edward? You have to pick and choose, you know? I would think you'd care more about your brother than about some strangers who mean nothing to you."

Ed shook his head angrily. "Al would never forgive me if I did something like that," he insisted.

"I'm here to warn you," the emperor said seriously. "Ling still cares about you, that's why he's trying to help you. And I'd hate to see anything bad happen to you because you stuck around in Central instead of heeding my warning."

Ed glared. "In case you haven't noticed, this is a mental hospital. Something bad has _already_ happened to me!"

The next thing Ed knew he was standing in his room with a book in his hand, talking to the air. There was no one there. How embarrassing. The next morning he asked to see the doctor and told him he was having hallucinations, and the doctor prescribed him a different medicine.

* * *

Ed carried the notebook everywhere with him. Every important thing that happened to him since being hurt was written in it. Of course, since coming to stay in the hospital, not many important things had happened to him, so often he just read over his records from before. Often he felt as if he were perfectly healthy, other than a little foggy from his medicine, but reading through his notebook always brought him back to reality.

He might _feel_ normal, and for that he supposed he was thankful, but he certainly couldn't be.

That notebook was filled with pages of nonsense. Not all of it, just some of it. And it turned his stomach to look at it. He wouldn't let the book out of sight, for fear that someone else would pick it up, read it, see the extent of his sickness and show it to his doctor, who would probably want to give him stronger medicine.

There were people here in this hospital who came and stayed for a little while and then left, and there were people who stayed and they stayed. He had pegged himself for a stayer. There were people there who at the first glance seemed completely normal, yet they'd been there for years already.

He was glad Al had never come to visit him. He was glad Al never had to see his older brother like this. It would only make him upset, and Ed couldn't bear to think of Al being upset.

Sometimes he started a letter to his brother. He and Al weren't much for letter writing but Al had written one to him, so he supposed he should write one back. He tried to find interesting things to tell him but here in the hospital there wasn't a lot to do. He wrote about visitors, whenever he got any. He tried to write about alchemy, but he was always afraid everything he could say would be something Al already knew, or, worse yet, something he had already told him.

He was glad Al didn't know how sick he was.

* * *

It was good to see Ed out of his hospital clothes. Roy had complained to the staff, before, that Ed should really be allowed to wear his normal outfits. "After all," he had argued. "He isn't _sick_, not physically. Every morning he wakes up and wants to know why he's in the hospital. Sometimes he even worries that what he has is contagious. If you let him dress normally, he might go days without even realizing he's in a hospital."

But they had told him that Ed's clothes had too many sharp metal objects as part of them..

"He would never _hurt_ himself!" Roy has raged. "He doesn't remember things! That's _all_!" he told them, even though he knew that wasn't all, even if they had never seen first hand the extent of Ed's problem. But the rules remained the rules, unless Ed was leaving the hospital.

Which today he was. It was his eighteenth birthday, and Roy had obtained permission to take him out. He didn't visit Ed as much as he promised himself he would, and felt guilty at enjoying the freedom he had back in his life, the nights of sound sleep he once enjoyed, and the lack of stress and worry he felt every minute of the day. He had once apologized to Ed for not visiting often enough, but Ed had shrugged, saying, "What does it matter? I won't remember, right?" It was as if he had given up even trying to get any better. Which made sense, Roy reasoned miserably. Everyone else had given up on him.

It was a beautiful day outside, very mild for winter, sunny but not hazy, cold but not chill, the way only winter sun can be. Roy had taken him to the park, bought him a big soft pretzel that he had devoured in under a minute. He wanted to buy him a balloon, but he knew Ed would think that was strange unless he told him it was his birthday. When Ed realized he didn't know what day it was he would be upset, and Roy just wanted him to be happy.

They sat on a blanket in the grass, Ed seeming content with just watching the outdoors, and Roy wondered if this was an effect of the medicine they gave him to keep him calm.

He looked so normal, Roy thought. No one they came in contact with would have guessed there was anything wrong with him, not the pretzel vendor from whom he had demanded a second treat, not the little girl who recognized the Fullmetal Alchemist and demanded and autograph, not the people throwing bread into the nearby pond for the ducks.

Ed was laying on his back on the ground under a tree, engaging Roy in intelligent discussion about alchemy that he found he missed everywhere else in his life. He spent a lot of time giving orders; he didn't really have anyone to simply discuss the art he loved. He watched Ed talking, perfectly content, perfectly happy, and wondered if that was really the way to go through life: only able to remember the good things.

It was as if Ed had dropped clean out of the vicious give and take, win and lose cycle that was life, with nothing to work toward and no reason to do it, only each day as it came along. No responsibilities, nothing to be held accountable for, nothing to regret.

Maybe this was the only way it could have ended for the brothers. After all, the thing they were after was impossible. Wasn't it?

Roy decided that, compared to paperwork and a lonely apartment, Ed was the most pleasant sight had seen in weeks, his blond hair glowing in the sun and his trademark red cloak spread out beneath him over the pale green winter grass, and Roy felt his lips begin to curl up in a genuine smile.

"What?" Ed demanded, screwing his face up and sitting upright, pushing himself up from the ground.

Roy shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just wished I could take your picture right now."

One eyebrow quirked up. "How come?" the boy asked, puzzled.

"I want to remember you like this," Roy said quietly, and Edward scoffed.

"Like what?" he said, blunt as ever. "You can see me any time you want. What do you need a picture for?"

Roy leaned back on his hands, forcing himself to smile at him. "So when you're old and ugly, we can look back and remember when you were young and beautiful."

"_You'll_ be old and ugly," the blond taunted, rolling his eyes. Then he leaned back, laughing, and tilted his face towards the sun. "I'll never be old and ugly." The words seemed to echo through the sunlit air, repeating themselves over and over through the park until the air began to feel a bit more chill and the sun started to sink into the trees.

Eventually the day drew to a close. Roy had taken Ed to a restaurant and laughed at him for ordering every desert on the menu. After finally exhausting his nearly inconquerable appetite, Ed leaned back in his chair and said, "Well, I guess we'd better get home, don't you think?"

Roy was silent in the car, watching Ed closely as he looked out the window at the streets. "Hey!" he said, accusingly, and Roy flinched. "We're going the wrong way, this isn't the way to your house!"

"We aren't going to my house, Ed," he said quietly, feeling a block of ice begin to form in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh yeah? Where else are we going? Isn't it getting kind of late? I mean, I know it's my birthday and all…" his voice trailed off, and golden eyebrows drew together in concern at Roy's expression. "What's wrong? What did I do?"

The older man sighed. "You didn't do anything," he assured him.

"So where are we going, then?" Ed pressed, his eyes on the road ahead of them. "Why are we leaving the city? Roy?"

The man swallowed, his concentration seemingly fixated on driving. "I didn't realize you knew it was your birthday," he said in lieu of an explanation.

"What?" Ed sputtered, frowning and insulted. "My birthday's been on the same day for eighteen years, how could you think I would forget something like _that_?" he fumed. "I'm not an _idiot_, Roy, when did you start thinking I was?" He waited to pounce on the response, but when none came he repeated his original concern. "Where are you taking me, damnit?"

Finally Roy spoke, and when he did, his voice was carefully level. "I apologize, Edward. I do not think you're an idiot." Not knowing how else to go about it, and feeling slightly ill at the thought of attempting deception, he said simply, "I'm taking you back to the hospital." He hazarded a glance over at Ed, who was looking at him blankly.

"Why have I been in the hospital?" he asked, his voice as blank as his expression.

"Because you're sick, and I can't take care of you by my self."

"Why doesn't Al take care of me?"

Roy swallowed again. "Your brother is… away right now."

"Does he know I'm sick?"

They were pulling into the hospital parking lot, and Roy put the car in park, finally able to look the boy in the eyes. He deserved at least that. The streetlamps were throwing colorless shadows over his face, and Roy thought, not for the first time, _he's an adult. He's going to live the rest of his adult life this way._ "No, he doesn't know."

Ed frowned, but stayed calm, looking down at his gloved hands, folding them in his lap over the red of his coat. "Don't you think someone should tell him?"

"It's… not that serious, Ed," He lied, feeling his stomach twist.

"Oh. So it's not… it's not what my mom had, then," he said quietly, still looking down at his lap, and Roy thought he heard his voice shake.

He cleared his throat. "No," he said, his voice sounding stronger than he felt. "No, it's not. It's nothing dangerous, you're going to be just fine." Edward didn't respond to that at all, and after a few minutes of silence Roy opened the car door, and Ed did the same, following him to the doors of the hospital without a word.

When he said goodbye to him, once inside, Ed said something very strange to him, something that Roy thought about over and over for weeks to come.

"Colonel?" Ed had said, looking in his direction but not completely focusing his eyes. "Colonel? Take good care of my brother. He's really counting on you."

* * *

Winry had meant to visit Ed on his birthday, but she excused herself using Ed's own logic: it didn't matter when she visited because he wouldn't remember it anyway. Instead it took her nearly two weeks to work up the courage to see her friend, and she was nervous walking up to the gates of the place. _A real mental institution_, she told herself, shuddering, not sure what to expect. She gave her name at the front desk and was waved inside, being told that Ed was always allowed to have visitors because he never caused any problems. _Never caused any problems?_ she thought, frowning somewhat. _That doesn't sound like Ed_.

He was sitting at a table by a window playing solitaire when she found him, which she also found odd: Ed always said solitaire was no fun; playing cards alone was no fun. She looked around at the other people in the room, people with vacant stares, people who twitched, people who muttered to themselves or to the furniture. She shuddered again. She didn't care how sick Ed was, she didn't believe for a minute this place was good for him.

His eyes met hers when he looked up from his game, and he smiled and stood up. "Hi Winry," he said, his voice sounding slightly subdued in some way. She couldn't quite place what made it sound different, she just knew that it did.

She grabbed him in a hug, feeling the hard metal of his shoulder through the thin hospital shirt. "Happy birthday, Ed," she said into the side of his neck, hugging him extra hard before letting go.

"Thanks, how old am I?" he asked cheerfully, but felt bad when he saw her face fall. "Oh, I'm kidding," he assured her. "I know how old I am."

"Ed!" she protested, trying to laugh but feeling like she was talking to an imitation of the Ed she knew. "That wasn't funny!"

He grinned at her. "Come on, have a little fun. I got you with that one, didn't I?" He folded his arms in front of him. "I know more than people think," he said stubbornly, and she laughed for real this time. A stubborn Ed was familiar to her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, then you know your birthday isn't today, so I should apologize for not coming sooner." She could see him thinking about that for a few seconds, and got the feeling that he really didn't know what day it is, but he just shrugged and waved her off.

"Whatever," he said absently. "Come on, play cards with me?" he asked. He gestured to the other people in the room. "These guys can't even play a decent game of Go Fish."

She hung her purse on the back of the empty chair across from him and sat down, gathering up his solitaire game and shuffling the deck. "What should we play?" she asked, trying to do a fancy shuffling trick but dropping a few cards into her lap, causing Ed to snatch them away from her and shuffle them himself.

"What do you want to play?" he countered, re-shuffling the shuffled deck.

"What… what can you play?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting to insult him by implying that he couldn't play a card game, but not wanting to suggest a game he couldn't play, either. Card games required memory, didn't they?

"Everything," he said confidently. "What about rummy?" he suggested, already dealing her a hand. "It's not that much fun with two people but we'd be hard pressed to find a third player in here."

Edward seemed perfectly normal to her. A little calmer than usual, which was still strange, but other than that he seemed like an ordinary person would seem. He didn't repeat conversations, he didn't look at her blankly as if he had no idea where he was or how they got there. He didn't seem like a sick person. He definitely didn't seem like a person who would try to hurt himself. If anything, he seemed happy.

"I'm winning," he said as he tallied their scores after three hands.

"I'm letting you win," she tried telling him, but he wouldn't hear it. This was an old conversation; Ed always won.

After coming out on top two more hands later, Winry began to suspect the truth. "You're cheating," she accused.

"Nope," he said, feigning innocence.

"Edward Elric, you always cheat at cards!" she reminded him. "That's why no one ever wants to play with you! Even Al doesn't like to play cards with you." She said it before she even thought about it, and she felt her face drain.

He stared at her panicked expression, then glanced down at his cards and laid another one down. "Hey, it's all right," he assured her. "You can talk about Al."

"Okay…" she said slowly.

"I like talking about him," he said. "I miss him."

"I miss him too," she said quietly. She was staring down at the table when she felt his cold metal fingers close over her own, and she jerked in her seat.

He withdrew his hand immediately. "Sorry," he said, and switched hands, wrapping warm flesh fingers around her palm.

"It's not that, its-"

"Don't be sad," he interrupted her, and her mind was racing. Ed wasn't talking like a crazy person. He wasn't acting like a crazy person. He wasn't even acting like a person with memory problems.

"I- I'm not," she told him. "You're right, I like talking about Al too." But they didn't say anything else about Al, they merely sat next to each other, each still holding a hand of cards and neither of them remembering the game, instead remembering the younger Elric.

After a few minutes Ed put his cards down. "I don't really feel like playing any more," he told her, his voice low. She watched, astonished, as he pulled a few more cards out of his pant leg and put them with the rest of the deck.

Winry opened her mouth to say something to him about having known all along that he was cheating, but he stood, stretched, and asked her if she brought any tools.

"Tools?" she echoed.

"Yeah, something's been wrong with my automail," he told her.

She looked defensive. "That's not _my_ fault," she told him. "You must not be taking good care of it. What's the matter?" she demanded.

He thought for a minute. "Well, it seems to move all right, but I'm always tripping on stuff. I thought maybe my balance mighty be messed up, because of my medicine, but then I wasn't sure. Can you just check it, so I at least know what's throwing me off so much? I feel really uncoordinated."

Her mechanic's eye looked up and down his form and saw the problem right away. "Ed, sit down again," she ordered him, and he did. "I already know what's wrong. It's not your medicine. Put your feet out in front of you."

He did, looking down at his slippered feet, his expression puzzled. "You can tell just from looking? You can't even see the automail, it's covered-"

"You grew," she said, hiding a giggle behind her hand. "That's why you're tripping over everything."

Realization was beginning to dawn, and his eyes widened, He stood up, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I _knew_ I was still growing!" he said excitedly.

Winry tapped a finger against her lips. "Well, I _did_ bring some tools, Ed, but I can't make your leg longer than it is. I _am_ working on some new models that are extendable, you know, for children who are still growing, just so they don't have to sit through a lot of adjustments, cause kids never sit still anyways. But you…" she shook her head. "I have to make you a new one. I can't even add a piece on to the heel. That won't be good because the knee still wont be in the right place." She stood up, folding her arms in front of herself. Her mind began to spin. "What would we have to do to get you out of here and back to Rizembool?" she asked him, her tone businesslike. "That's where you should be anyway, not in a hospital with these nutcases."

"I thought you worked in Rush Valley?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

She felt guilty: she never told him she had finished apprenticing in Rush Valley, and now he would think she did and he just forgot. "I work in Rizembool now, and Ed, there's no way to fix this without you coming back with me, it's a medical necessity." Really, it was a travesty to see the limbs that she made in a state of imperfection of any kind, even if that imperfection was due simply to the fact that their wearer grew. "You can't go around with automail that's too small for you. You're an adult now, you can make your own decision to leave here, cant you?"

"Am I eighteen now?" he asked her curiously.

_He's kidding again,_ she told herself firmly. _He knows how old he is_. "Very funny," she said sarcastically. "They probably keep you here cause you keep saying stuff like that."

_They do though,_ Ed thought. "I think I might have left once before," he said uncertainly. "Maybe more than once. I wonder if we just walked out, or- what?"

Winry watched him pull a fat notebook out of his pocket and flip through the pages. "Ah ha," he said after a bit of searching. "I left with Roy on my birthday-" he looked up "-you were right, I am eighteen now-" he thumbed through a few more pages. "I saw a movie with Second Lieutenant Havoc a few weeks ago aaaand… that's it." He closed the book. "I guess I can leave with whoever I want?"

"I'll talk to your doctor," she told him. "I'm sure he'll see that you need to come with me."

It turned out that even though Ed was eighteen he still could not leave at will. Because he was so sick, he still had a legal guardian, and that guardian was the man who had been caring for him in Central before giving in and leaving him at the hospital.

"_Colonel Mustang_ has the say in whether Ed gets to leave?" Winry said in disbelief. She turned on him. "Why is _he_ your guardian?"

"I probably signed something saying he was," Ed admitted. "Because I wanted to stay in Central. Although… I can't think of why I did." He shrugged. "Just call him up, or, better yet, I'll call him. It's not like he'll say I can't leave to get my automail fixed. He'll let me do anything I want; he feels guilty enough already."

"Guilty?" Winry questioned. "Why?"

Ed gave a sigh. "Because he thinks everything that goes wrong is his fault. He thinks he should have been able to avert every bad thing that's ever happened to every one he cares about, that's why."

Winry just stared at him. That wasn't the way she saw the Colonel at all, although she supposed that Ed knew him better than she did, having worked for him all these years. "I need to call granny," she told him. "To tell her to expect you."

* * *

"Hey Winry," Ed said to her, perched on her workbench swinging his mis-matched legs back and forth. "Try to take a long time making that new leg, why don't you? I don't wanna go back to the hospital."

She stared at him. There had been days when she had simply _ached_ to hear those words. She shook her head at herself and announced, "Ed, you're _never_ going back to the hospital. Just forget you were ever there!"

He just stared up at the ceiling as if he didn't even hear her.

It had been four days since they arrived in Rizembool, and Winry was already taking a long time with Ed's leg without having been asked. She was waiting for her grandmother to declare that Ed would not go back to Central, but, she was so certain that would be the eventual conclusion, she said it first.

The day before she had cautiously asked him if he still knew how to do alchemy, and he got righteously offended and then said of course he did. She put him to work fixing various things around the property that she had been putting off for later, and he accomplished what would have taken her and Granny weeks in just a few hours. They even walked into town and Ed waved eagerly at the neighbors when they recognized him and said hello. Winry sighed to herself. It was like half of a fairy tale ending. One of two brothers was returned to her. One of two brothers was home, and he may have been safe, but no matter how much of a show he put on, the safe brother was no where near sound.

Ed adapted right away to his new surroundings. He never did any of the things the doctor had warned her might happen: he never woke up in the middle of the night not knowing where he was, he never spoke to people who weren't there, and he never, ever did anything that could have hurt her, or himself. He slept in the same room he had always slept in when he stayed with the Rockbells without even having to be directed, he simply walked in, set his suitcase down, and began to empty his pockets onto the nightstand before falling into bed. He never said a word about the second, empty bed., the one by the window.

He left his State Alchemist watch on the nightstand where he dumped it the first night and picked it up or even looked at it, as far as Winry knew. The only thing that was different about him, aside from being six years older than he had been when the brothers first left home, was that he still carried around that notebook. Winry stole a glance or two at it when she could get away with it. _Eggs for breakfast,_ was what the first page said. Flipping through, she saw it was just a methodical list of things Ed must have thought were notable in his day. _Pulled weeds with Pinako. Wrote to Al. Noticed Winry looking pretty._ She flushed whenever she read a notation like that one.

Only once did Winry ever ask if Ed was really going to stay. "Why wouldn't I stay?" he asked her, as if the thought of leaving, moving forward, moving on, had never occurred to him before. "Where else would I go?"

"You don't remember the hospital," she said, not even a question really.

He frowned. "I'd rather not remember that," he told her, refusing to agree or disagree with her guess. "I feel like I'm getting better though," he added, and she smiled at him, and he smiled back, a little ruefully. "Although it might just be that there's less to remember out here. Rizembool always stayed the same, it was Central that kept moving and changing on me." Then he shrugged. "Want to go for a walk or something?"

She thought she could tell a difference in him. He seemed more animated, more himself, more able to focus on things without losing his though process, and she thought at first that he was right, he was starting to get better. She thought it meant that Pinako had been right all along: Ed was better off at home than in some hospital in Central, and the Colonel had no business allowing him to stay there as long as he did.

Eventually, though, Winry realized what had really caused the change. She was doing some research of her own one day, in her parents' old medical journals, trying to learn as much as she could about brain injuries, and thundered across the house to the medicine cabinet where Granny kept Edward's medicine, to see what it was called. But there was nothing there.

"They made me stupid," he told her when she confronted him about it, and she opened her mouth to object but he stopped her. "Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything dangerous," he assured her with a bit of his old confidence, but he could tell she didn't know whether or not to believe him. She had heard frightening stories about Ed trying to strangle himself in his sleep, but she didn't say anything to him about it. He probably never even knew that was why the Colonel had put him in the hospital in the first place.

There were days he said things that didn't make sense, and yet sometimes he made more sense than she ever could. She was starting to getting used to him this way, and that was what really startled her.

She remembered the time told her he liked talking about Al, and she took that to heart. They talked about Al a lot, and it made her a bittersweet kind of happy. Ed's memory of when they were children was perfect, and his memory of their years together searching for the stone wasn't bad either. Al did a lot of things to help people Winry had never known about, and it just made her feel even better to know how many lives he had touched.

It was one of their conversations about Al that had changed her perception of everything.

"Do you write to Al a lot?" she had asked, and he shook his head.

"We're not real good at writing letters. He's better at it than I am. But he wrote the last one, so it's my turn now."

It was a morbid kind of curiosity that made her continue to ask questions. "When did you get a letter from him?"

Ed thought for a minute, and she half expected him to pull out his notebook, but he answered her without it. "A while ago now. He wrote to me when he was out West. I don't know where he is right now, actually, so I guess I can't send him a letter, can I?"

"Ed, that was over a year ago now," she told him sadly, regretting saying anything about Al at all.

"Really?" he asked her. "I'm eighteen now?"

She rolled her eyes, still unable to tell when he was being serious about his age and whether he knew it or not.

"You know what would be really awful?" he said then, snickering, not seeming to notice how serious she was being. "What if when I get old, I can't remember I'm old, and every time I look in the mirror I think I'm seeing… dad?"

She just shook her head, glad for the distraction. "I can't picture you old, Ed," she told him honestly.

"I know it's a big secret where Al is and all," he said after a minute, going back to what he had said before, "but I wish there was some way I could get a letter to him or something. It's not fair that nobody tells me anything."

Winry felt her stomach jerk at his words. "Me too. I wish the same thing. I miss Al too."

Ed sighed. "Does anybody even know where he is anymore?" he asked, and she didn't think she could do anything else but tell him the truth.

_He will forget this conversation_, she told herself. _And I've never talked about Al's death, not to anyone. Maybe… maybe this will be good for both of us._ Still, she shuddered at the warning she had been given about what happened to Ed the last time he found out about his brother's death.

He spoke again before she could respond. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for talking like this. I didn't mean to upset you, Winry, really." He sighed again. "You don't have to say anything else. I know everyone thinks he's dead."

She stared at him in shock. "You do?" she forced out, stunned.

"But he isn't. I _know_ he isn't. I can't tell you how I know, but it's true, you've got to believe me," Ed told her urgently, the words tumbling out all at once, and he had never seemed his old self so much before. "I don't know how many times I've already told you this, but I can tell you don't believe me."

"Ed," she said, her voice faltering, "how- how _can_ I believe you?"

He pounded his fist into his palm in frustration. "I don't know!" he shouted suddenly. "I don't know what to tell you to make you believe me. I don't even know how I know! I don't know anything, not _anything_, can you even imagine what that's like? All I know is I lost my memory, and I lost my brother, _that's it_, everything else is just a guess, that's what my whole life is, waking up every morning trying to figure out what the hell is going on and what the hell happened to me!" His eyes burned with a determination she hadn't seen since before Al's death. "He's _lost_, Winry, he's not dead, but how can I even start to look for him if I can't even remember he's gone?"

He fell silent, and slowly, not knowing what she could possibly say to that outburst, Winry put her arms around him in comfort, and hugged him tightly. He stiffened, not hugging her back, until finally she let him go, sitting back on her heels and just looking at his downcast face.

Then he made that expression again, the blank one, the one she had come to recognize as his mind resetting itself, like wiping clean a chalkboard and starting over again.

"You look sad," he told her, and she could tell he didn't remember a thing he just said. "Don't be sad, Winry. Hey, lets go out to the river and climb up in that tree and skip stones over the sunset, it'll be fun." He plastered a grin across his face in attempts to cheer her up. "We always used to do that when we were kids, let's do it again." He stood up, and, wordlessly, she followed him.

They did climb the tree and skip stones, and returned to the Rockbell house late for dinner, but it wasn't until Winry was in bed and drifting off to sleep that she realized what had been wrong with Ed's statement.

She never climbed that tree with Ed. They never skipped stones over the sunset. She had done these things, but not with the older Elric. It had been with Al.


End file.
